Six Years Later- A Sequel
by The Everlasting Non Sequitur
Summary: Victor is dying. Prosper is in love. Bo is dealing with adolescence. Scipio is almost bankrupt. Hornet is still dealing with a discovery that has shaken her life. Ida is abroad, and so is Mosca. Riccio is in rehab. Will things get better for the characters that starred in the 2002 novel? Read this fanfic to find out. Rated T for a reason.
1. Musings in a Hospital Bed

**-Victor's POV-**

Victor gasped. That cursed oxygen mask! Probably wasn't working well. Now he would have to call that _idiota _nurse to fix it, and she would take at least an hour. When she did that, he almost thought she wanted him to die early. Useless woman. _  
_

And those pigeons! Earlier, he had found them vaguely tolerable. Now, he found them a menace. Tap-tap-tapping away at the window all day, purring and cooing repetitively... were hospital windows haunted by pigeons or something? Evidently, his was.

_Ah, Victor, this lung cancer seems to also have affected your temper, _he thought. And what a cursed thing this cancer was! Like Ida- it was she who had given him his first cigarette. Abominable woman. He couldn't fathom how his and her relationship had even lasted three years. How insufferable she had become at the end of it- not the Ida he had met that winter night at all. Now she spent all her time traveling and working for that silly magazine of hers... what was it, now? Ah, yes, _The True Photographer. _And such a silly name too! And he had helped her start it- he had funded all that printing and advertising and everything she had asked for... not that money was a problem for her! Oh no, Madam just wanted to drain him of all his money and sit around and not spend a single _lira _of her own. Hmph! It was just as well that he hadn't even tried to meet her recently. He had even thrown away the white roses she had sent on hearing about his illness.

He missed Paula the tortoise. Her husband had died much, much earlier- he didn't even remember his name anymore. But Paula's memory was still fresh in his mind. _She had lived a long, full life, _everyone said. Bah! Stupid cliche.

In fact, the only joys in his life were the boys and Hornet. And someone was missing even there- Mosca had joined the US Navy two years ago and was now a busy marine. He almost never visited now, the last time he had was two weeks before Scipio's birthday last year.

Scipio... young, handsome lad. He now had to run the agency on his own. They had talked of closing it, but then they had gotten that murder case- wasn't it a politician's son who died? Yes, it was indeed. Business had boomed right then, but it was doing quite badly right now. Victor wanted to keep it open till he died. There were dramatic plans of burning it down on the day of Victor's funeral, but the neighbor had overheard them and the flowerpots thrown were quite heavy.

Victor smiled at the memory and drifted off to sleep- he had still not called that _idiota _nurse.


	2. Life Was Good

Life was good to Scipio Fortunato.

"Hello, Prosper?"

"Hi, yeah, can you come over? Now?"

"Sure. Why?"

He could almost hear him blush. "Nothing, just wanted to talk to you. Been a while."

Scipio grinned. "It's a girl, isn't it?"

Prosper didn't reply.

"I'm a detective for a reason, Prop. Coming over in five."

"In two."

"In ten."

"Asshole."

"See you." He laughed.

The agency was going all right- he had just gotten a missing pet case and was working on tracing a leak, and the clients were not as stingy as usual ("Not more than five thousand lira per day." "Oh, that's all right, Signora Bellini! Perfectly fine.") . Victor was feeling better, Mosca was coming over (or so he had said), Hornet's health was well, Bo seemed... troubled.

That was the one trouble Scipio had right now.

Bo had been somewhat different ever since he had started eighth grade. Aloof, dizzy, spending more time in his room. His gait had changed from active and fast to shuffling and guilty.

Scipio was pretty sure it was drugs, but he wanted to have proof; and if he confronted Bo, Prosper would get angry for being seen as irresponsible and for being reminded that Bo was slightly closer to Scipio.

Shaking his head, he stepped out into the sunshine. Life was good indeed.


	3. The Aftertaste Was Guilt

Bo whistled lightly; two short hoots akin to an owl's. His heart was thudding, his palms were sweaty and his stomach was turning somersaults.

But that did not matter to him. The job had been done. Not caring whether anyone, much less Signor Valarosa, had heard the signal, he walked off. The money would be given to him tomorrow. He didn't have to worry about much else right now- except for the slight twinges of guilt he felt.

"They _were _beautiful roses..." he whispered, looking back at the garden which contained said roses.

The rose would have been sparkling with dew had he not-

But he had no time for guilty thoughts. No time for a conscience. He knew and accepted that he wouldn't be able to sleep that night. He could never sleep after these little jobs.

His stomach was still churning. Was it past his curfew yet? He increased his pace considerably, almost running now.

And then a sudden, disquieting realization struck him with an alarming certainty.

There was a pair of eyes watching him from behind.

They bored into his back, burning holes, making him feel like he would freeze on the spot, but he kept walking.

Walk, Bo. Boniface, walk. C'mon. C'mon. Put one foot in front of the other. Here, like this. Just one turn and you'll be out of this street. Just this turn. Okay now. You're safe.

Had anyone recognized him? How long had they been watching? Maybe they had recorded something. Who was it? Plenty of kids from school got on the same bus as Signor Valarosa, it could be any one of them. He started making a list inside his head, only to give up after he couldn't come up with anything. Where was his memory when he needed it?  
It could be a teacher...

They'd arrest him for being a vandal, for being a destructive little maggot, for murder, espionage, treason!

Calm down, Bo.

Calm down what the hell are you thinking _calm down! _

Just get to Prosper. Get to Prop and _confess _this time. Confess to _everything. _Or Scip. Tell someone. Speak, Bo. You can't keep doing this. You'll just hurt yourself and Prop and Hornet and everyone in the wake.

He kept repeating this inside his head until it became a mantra, a meaningless drabble, a string of nonsense.

Anyway, what was the point? He knew he'd just pass another day like every other, taking 'jobs' from fellow students and teachers and then not having the guts to spend the money on what he truly wanted.

Weed.

Bo wanted weed. Ever since he had gotten high at a classmate's birthday party, he had had a craving for weed. It made him frustrated. It made him angry. It consumed him.

Bo didn't need or _really _want it, though. The party had been a year ago. He had started doing this a week after it, and going through the same cycle each time, earning it and keeping it stashed under his bed, occasionally spending some on a new video game or to repair his skateboard.

The truth was, he loved it. The thrill. The kick. The feeling of doing something wrong and not getting caught.

The weed was just the excuse he gave himself.

He lay in bed later, trying to come up with names, his breath hitching the second he thought he'd figured it out, and then realizing something which ruled them out. He fell asleep around one.

He didn't wake up till twelve the next morning, and when he did, he was sweating bullets.

Some kinds of guilt never leave you. The aftertaste of badness was one of them.


	4. Author's Note

Hey~!

Okay, I know that I've been absolutely shameless about updating before now, but since I have only two current projects, I _will _update sooner, longer and probably with some kind of routine. What do you guys want? Weekly? Fridays and Tuesdays (since I'm more or less free around both of those days)? PM me. Also, this is just a passing comment, but I hate it when I ask my readers something and they don't say anything in return.

So basically, since this fic is one of my main focuses right now, expect chapters sooner guys! *explodes into rainbow-flavored Nutella*

Also, this is a tad more than I planned to say, and it sounds like self-advertising *fidgets*... which it might just be, but if you like Attack on Titan I'm writing a cornily-titled fic about it which you can try reading (it's my other focus for now). Don't judge a fic by its cliche title, okay?

XOXO

The Everlasting Non Sequitur


End file.
